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2012-10-21 Otto's Shrunken Head
There is a bar called "Otto's Shrunken Head" in New York's Lower East Side. Originally a tiki bar, the place has become one of those small, trendy bars where hipsters, punks, even steampunk and nerd kids gather to imbibe, chat, or hook up. It is early evening on a busy week night, and a tattooed, purple-haired DJ has just begun to play some interesting music. Fresh out of the Chicago music scene, the genre is generally known as "Seapunk" - a combination of trip hop, electro, and trance music with a decidedly oceanic twist. Fortunately, the music isn't so overwhelming in volume that it would really annoy anyone save for the most easily annoyed, and so it does not interfere with the rather boisterous conversation surrounding politics that has developed at the bar. "Yeah, well I think that Governor is just full of himself!" blurts out one younger man wearing a studded leather jacket and wielding a fist full of cheap beer. "Typical, like all politicians. I don't care what party you're in, they're all corrupt!" With the tune of hooting agreements and raised drinks as a background for his entrance, the generally unremarkable figure of Kwabena Odame walks into the bar. As the door man checks his photo ID, his oddly colored eyes peer about at the interior, looking for its quietest spot. "Alright buddy, you're good," says the door man. Odame, ignoring him for the most part, simply takes back his ID and sidles over to the bar, doing nothing to draw undue attention to himself. As far as locations for info drops go, there could be worse. Domino slips in through the entrance only a moment later, so set on her task that she almost walks right into the friendly sort that greets her at the door in search of an ID. "Whatever, here," she cuts in while holding it out between two fingers. Nevermind that she could probably drink the guy right under the table, standing and waiting with her weight on one leg and her expression blank beyond one hooked brow. He says nothing in return when he hands it back, to which she gives a soft "Thank-yooou," drifting past him while tucking the ID out of sight. It's an interesting place, to be sure. She almost fits in with her quasi-Goth presentation. Onward and inward, eyeing the joint for her contact. It takes the bartender a few moments to note Kwabena's presence, especially with his unremarkably plain clothes. He's not the only patron wearing something as basic as jeans, a t-shirt, and a leather jacket of course, but most of those types have something otherwise remarkable about them, such as trendy glasses, pink mohawks, or a flashy partner. Then again, there are Kwabena's eyes. When the bartender heads his way, she throws herself back against her hip and studies him carefully. "Nice contacts," she says, smirking curiously at him. "What'll it be?" "Double Bulleit Rye, on the rocks," answers Kwabena. When he speaks, it is with a thickly accented African voice, of Ghanaian origin for those so attuned to determining regional dialects. "Thank you." What a curious bunch of people in this place... Then again, where else would these sorts of lost souls congregate? Domino's still searching the room, spotting the guy with the braided black hair at the bar. Hmm, is that--? Dang, the drink options around here aren't too shabby! Maybe she'll stick around for a while after getting her business out of the way. Visual contact is soon established with her contact, drifting through the crowd once more to stand at the edge of his table. "Nice weather, huh?" The lone man seated there gives the mercenary a puzzled look. "I wasn't aware of any code--" "It's small-talk, kiddo," Dom cuts in while holding a hand out, low to keep it out of sight. The man sighs and drops a USB drive into her palm then stands away from the table, leaning close to her ear. "Just for that, you can cover my tab." The departing contact is watched for a moment as she pockets the drive. "Sure thing, jerk." Sigh. Yep, definitely going to stick around for a drink or four. Trendy bar... shrunkenhead... yeah. Heather's agent told her that this would be a good place to go out and be -seen-. The name makes her leery, but... hey, the things we do to promote ourselves when our business is -being- seen. She dressed in a mildly trendy outfit, nothing naughty even! Well, mostly not. So having driven herself here in her trendy little Mini-Cooper, she parked outside and clicked the alarm on before heading for the front door. In she walks, taking a moment in the doorway to let her baby blues sweep over the room slowly. She has her ID out, since well... she's twenty two, and looks like she's maybe a teen these days. She smiles to the guy checking ID's as he notices the name and gives her a second look. She nods and heads inside after saying, "Thanks hon." Every animal has its watering holes. In the last century, one minority after another has had to endure segregation- and over that time, pubs and bars have provided a safe haven for everyone from the disenfranchised to the feared to socialize safely and watch one another's backs. And what kind of leader would Erik Lensherr be if he didn't, on occassion, see to the health and well-being of his wards? Inspected where they spend their time and protected them, if need be, with the power they don't have for themselves? He enters with his own small entourage- young, impressionable looking mutants, swaggering with a power and authority that far outweighs their meager existence, but empowered by the trust Magneto places in them. They exchange short words with the bartenders and Magneto is guided towards a private booth table on the elevated rear wall of the room, his companions spreading out around him. A drink is brought and delivered- what looks like a simple scotch on the rocks. He produces a small tablet and starts scanning through its contents, blue eyes flickering at certain faces that drift in and out of his immediate awareness. The bartender gives Odame a momentary smirk, before sashaying over toward her selection of whiskeys and choosing the green-labeled Bullet Rye. She brings a double glass back over to him and studies him curiously as she pours the drink. "Benin?" "I'm sorry?" asked Odame. "Benin!" she repeats. "I know it's not Nigeria." "Oh." Kwabena acknowledges her by actually looking her in the eyes, and flashes her a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry. No, it's... it's Ghana." The bartender snaps her fingers. "Ghana! Damn! That's right! You know a friend of mine in collie said she was from there! I knew I recognized that accent." She grins and gestures toward the drink. "Welcome. First one's on the house, since I've never seen you here and it looks like you'll be sticking around a while." Kwabena perks an eyebrow toward her, and is about to answer, when the incoming entourage starts to draw the attention of almost everyone in the room. Kwabena, as well, turns and watches, but there is a look of recognition and shock in his eyes that he simply cannot conceal. "I'll be a god damned..." He doesn't even finish the thought, as the silent curse disappears into shocked silence. There's someone who's in the bar already. She's in the back. At a table by herself. Nursing a drink. And every now and then some idiot, usually a drunken one, comes up to her and tries to hit on her. More often than not the bad pick up lines involve the woman's chest. Or what the drunks would like to do with said chest. And every time the woman has to send them packing. Oh she doesn't hurt them. At least not physically or in a way that's readily apparent. Sure one or two have had their glasses explode in their hands, but.... But Karen Starr (aka Power Girl when she's in costume) is here in casual civilian clothing. She was supposed to be meeting someone here. But instead that someone is an hour late and still hasn't shown their face... Thus she keeps having to deal with stuff like that. Pitty the drunk fool who actually angers her. Especially since she probably can't get drunk herself. Dom's up at the counter, making her own selection by reading the labels. Seems like the 'tender's a bit waylaid by Mister Braids over there. Normally she's not all that interested in eavesdropping, but there's one moment during their brief conversation where she catches something that seems ..out of place. The tone and pitch are completely different. She may not catch the words, but she knows that sound. On the sly she shifts her gaze toward Kwabena before turning around, yawning with a lazy stretch, and hooks her elbows back upon the bar so she can look at the room proper, where his attention currently seems to be lurking. A group of new arrivals... Following some old guy? Doesn't look like a Chess Club, to her. Perhaps she should be eavesdropping a little more than usual, here. There's a feeling in the air that wasn't here a moment ago. This doesn't have anything to do with her, does it..? Of course, there's the one young lady who actually -wants- folks to notice and watch her, that everyone seems to find less interesting than the group of... oh hey look, old guy with an entourage. Heather offers a bit of a smile to Erik, with no idea who he is. She shrugs and heads towards the bar. She does know Domino, fought alongside her once in that riot a while back, but she reaches up and removes her jacket (revealing like 95% of her back of course) before she gestures to the bartender, "Can I get like four orders of Jalapeno Poppers?" she asks as she sets her credit card on the counter, "Oh, and whatever's on tap." "Excuuse me, misssis," comes a whinging sound near Power Girl's table. A young woman- barely twenty, it appears- stands near her, fingers folded low under her chin and eyes peering almost fearfully up through a flat mess of black hair. "Misster Erik apologisssess for the botherance of you, but asssks... 'if you are sssso inclined, would you join him?" The girl's lisp is more than just a clumsy impediment, it sounds nearly sepentine. Her posture and tone are nearly fearful- except not of Power Girl, but rather, as if she's afraid of the results of Power Girl declining the invitation. Magneto inclines his head in a friendly fashion to Heather, returning her smile with one in kind. Kwabena also recieves a welcoming and even friendly gesture, and an invitation to join Magneto at his private table in the back. Erik's clearly well into his late prime- crow's feet and white hair clash with the strength in his backbone and the clear, confident sprinkle in sky-blue eyes. That, combined with his confident demeanor and the entourage around him, gives him the appearance of a much younger man at the club. One of those unfortunate flaws about Kwabena Odame is his severe lack of trust... trust in anything or anyone. He may have grown accustomed to hiding it, but paranoia is always running is his veins. Thus, when Domino studies him, he feels heat on the back of his neck as a result of that paranoia. Remembering the bartender's offer, he simply nods his head her way and offers a simple, "Thank you," before turning to look in Domino's direction. Without the benefit of dark alleys or hiding places to keep him safe, his best defense is to acknowledge and, hopefully, keep others from thinking that there is anything strange about him; something that might prove difficult if Magneto and his gang of mutants start shaking things up. After all, Otto's Shrunken Head may be a den of culture, but that doesn't mean that every freak in the place is a huge fan of mutants! Casually stepping up next to her, Kwabena speaks in quiet conversational tone. "You recognize them?" He tilts his head subtly toward the mutants, before kindly acknowledging Magneto's invitation with a brief smile and a nod in response, followed by a momentary gesture indicating he will be a few moments. Then, he turns back toward Domino. "I do," he murmurs. "Had a most interesting conversation with him a few days ago." The bartender steps up toward Domino and Heather, perking an eyebrow. "You want four orders of everything we have on tap? Sweetheart, we've got ten handles, you're talking about forty beers?" Rolling her eyes, Heather giggles, "Oh, I was talking... four of the poppers, and one beer. But..." she pauses and ponders the look on everyone's face if she drank them all under the table. "Nah, just one draft, non-light beer. And then four orders of your poppers. Gotta watch my figure y'know." She looks towards Domino, "Hey there." she offers to her with a grin. "I'd much rather run into you under these circumstances, than the way we met last time." And as that woman speaks up, Karen blinks. That is before she turns her head and glances at the woman speaking to her. Then, there's a slow nod as Karen (She's not dressed as Power Girl. Thus it shouldn't be apparent that she is Power Girl) gets up and manages to even say, "Lead the way." Sure she's not sure why she's doing this. But after all those drunks, this is at least a refreshing change of pace. Hmm, hold up now... That girl who's trying to order a crapton of beer looks familiar. Dom passes a quick grin back to Heather, "It does make things a bit easier, doesn't it? Keeping a figure like that on a diet of beer and fried goods, you must be lucky as hell." A moment later and she catches movement off to the side. Heads up, Braids is approaching. The thought quickly passes through the merc woman's head, though she does a good job of not noticing it as a physical reaction. When the question is voiced right beside her she makes a quizzical "Hmmh?" sound, as though caught off guard by Kwabena's approach. How convenient, perhaps she'll get lucky and find herself some easy intel. There's another glance back to Magneto and Company, followed by a subtle roll of her shoulders. "Can't say that I do, but I recognize the type." Only then does she give Kwabena proper eye contact, the glance hesitating slightly as she looks from one eye to the other. Seems that she guessed correctly, anyway. Opting for a slightly surprised expression, she observes "Have you, now? He seems to know you quite well. Interesting sort, I'm half tempted to go over and say hello," she continues while casting that icy blue gaze back across the room to where Erik sits. Aw, darnit. Lost her window to get a drink again. Timing, Dom..! "Please excuse my impertienence, dear lady," Magneto asks Power Girl, extending a palm in a gesture both apologetic and an invitation to sit. "You appeared to be having an unpleasant night. Given the clientele who favor this bar, I deduced that you might enjoy an invitation for some companionship." His accent- vaguely European- is exquisitely cultured, a basso tone that carries easily even in the low white noise of the club. He sets his tablet aside and interlaces his fingers atop the tabletop. "Am I correct, or are you simply indulging an old man's whims?" he asks with a playful tone, robin-blue eyes crinkling in laugh lines. The bartender grins sweetly at Heather. "I thought so. You got it!" "He seems to know me better than I thought I knew myself," admits Kwabena. He momentarily glances toward Heather when she joins, quietly acknowledging her and noting that she and the woman he speaks with seem to be acquainted. "Well, I will say this. He's clearly invited me to join them. I wouldn't mind making a few introductions." As if to prove his point, he offers his right hand in greeting. "I'm Jomas. Jomas Ahnbar," he says, adopting to use one of his oldest false identities, which happens to match the same false ID he'd shown to the doorman. A clever one, Odame is. "To be honest..." Karen Starr admits. "I'm not sure. But considering the person I was suppose to meet here is over an hour late, I'm note sure that it matters either." Then though, she tilts her head and smiles slightly, before taking a sip of her drink. "All though, I will admit that I'm curious as to what brings you here tonight." And yet, as she picks up something that others may have said, thanks to her super hearing, she frowns slightly, but decides not to press that point. At least not yet. "Join who?" asks Heather. She has no idea who they're talking about, but she doesn't really want to poke her nose in where it's not wanted. But... there's that damned curiosity. She grins to the bartender and takes the draft beer as she looks between Domino and Odame/Jomas. She has that confused look of the one person who doesn't get the joke everyone else knows. "Fascinating," Domino almost automatically replies. Telepathic, maybe..? She's still considering it when the offer is made, along with an introduction. She pushes herself away from the counter to stand up straight, taking Kwabena's hand in her own. "Jessica Costello," she offers back with a friendly smile. Two can play that game. "Just--one second, would you?" Turning back to the bar counter, Dom flags the 'tender down. "One of those," she says while pointing to a shelved bottle. Then she thumbs over to the empty table where her contact had been sitting a minute ago. "Also, put dipsh--that guy's tab onto mine." With the next piece of business out of the way she looks back to Jomas, lopsided smile returning. There's a slight bob of her head toward Heather, asking "Mind if my friend of the fried foods comes with?" Magneto steeples his fingers loosely, pursing his lips in thought. "Responsibility impels me," he says, finally. He's a man who clearly gives carefuly thought to his words before choosing them. "Many young men and women who look up to me like to congregate here. I feel as if it devolves upon me to- on occassion- 'stop by' and keep an eye on them." He smiles at Karen, taking a sip of his drink and glancing over to Domino, Heather, and Kwabena, who are having their own muttered conversation at the bar. "Call it a silly parental obligation. What of yourself? Were you meeting a friend for social reasons or was it professional?" As the introductions are made, 'Jomas' bows his head and releases her hand after an appropriate few moments, that being enough to acknowledge her greeting. He looks past Domino to Heather, studying her for a moment, before looking back over at Magneto's table. "I suppose we will find out if he minds." He pushes himself away from the bar after taking a sip from his whiskey, motioning quietly for Domino and Heather to follow. He approaches Magneto's table, allowing a calm smile to appear on his face while electing to leave Magneto to make introductions, for he does not wish to use the man's name without his leave. An unexpected sign of respect, which is a rare thing to come from Kwabena Odame. Again, there's a quirked eyebrow at what Erik says, and Karen takes a sip of her drink before she responds. In fact, she even sets her drink back down before she says anything, making it a bit apparent that she's more than likely considering her words carefully before saying anything. "Professional, for the most part. I promised someone who works for me their choice of drinks from their choice of places if they could pull something off that others thought was impossible. They succeeded, thus here I am..." Then there's a pause, and even a frown as she adds. "And here they aren't." All though as 'Jomas' comes up to the table, the blonde woman sitting with Magneto does offer him a slight nod in greeting. Blinking a bit, Heather inclines her head. She's not... a tagalong. Not someone who just follows meekly in hopes of approval. That is -so- not her style. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. "You go on, I have a food order comin'." she offers to Domino. It's so ... weird. She's the celebrity, the one who's always in the limelight. Bikini model from Sports Illustrated, Victoria's Secret commercials... what have you. And she's basically being given the... 'eh, she might be okay, I dunno' treatment. Nope, she now regrets even coming here tonight, but she plasters the model's smile on her face and stays at the bar, waiting for her order. "Ah. Mister Ahnbar," Magneto says, his eyes lifting from Karen to Ahnbar's face. "A pleasure to see you again, and so soon. I see you've found the... proverbial watering hole," he quips, slender lips curling into a smile. His eyes flicker to Domino, the Heather in turn as the line of motion tracks back to them. "You appear to be making many new friends. I'm glad to see life in the city is agreeing with you," he smiles at the man. Erik turns his attention back to Karen. "I express condolences that your friend was unable to join you, though it seems a pleasant bit of serendipity that allows me to enjoy your company. Might I inquire as to the nature of this wager?" Fun how quickly a good-sized group can become a bigger-sized group. At the rejection, Domino nods back to Heather. "Suit yourself." Drat. A little extra support might have proven beneficial while getting absorbed into this existing group. She follows after Kwabena, attention jumping from person to person within Magneto's crew. In the end, it's the old guy that holds her attention the most. There's something very noteworthy about his gaze... Captivating. Controlling? There's power behind those eyes, one which she quickly takes note of. This here is a place to tread carefully, but she still wouldn't have turned down the opportunity! Sources of work come in many different forms. Hell, maybe she'll get lucky. When Heather neglects to join them, Kwabena cocks an eyebrow at her. Looking at her a bit more closely, recognition begins to set in, and finally, a little smirk touches the corner of his mouth. As they pass by, he looks directly at her and offers, "I'm sure you'd be more than welcome." As he and Domino join Magneto's party, he looks toward the older gentleman with as much of a cordial look as he can muster... which oddly enough, has come more natural for him this evening. He considers for a moment how this entire social affair has come easier than it ever has for him, but doesn't speak of it, instead internalizing the recognition and moving onward. "Mister Lehnsherr," he offers. "I suppose I have found my visit to the Big Apple more agreeable than I could have expected. I hope you understand what I mean." Again, the way he speaks that last sentence seems more directed to apologizing for his thick and sometimes difficult to understand accent. "This is Jessica Costello," he says, motioning toward Domino. "Miss Costello, Mister Lehnsherr." He acknowledges some of Magneto's counterparts with mere eye contact, including the one they call Karen. There's a nod towards Domino too as she's introduced, before Karen quirks an eyebrow. She doesn't comment though about that apology, despite her being curious about it. All though as for that bet... "Let's just say that it involves a bit of science, the type that I don't even fully understand, and something that most of the people who work for me thought was impossible. Something about subtle use of ... I want to say magnetic fields and using them to block stronger magnetic fields that could be harmful to certain types of electronics, but actually I think that one hasn't been solved yet..." There's a shrug at that." Another brow raising as Heather is kinda feeling patronized. She gestures towards the food that is about to be delivered. "As I said, waiting on my food." But then she thinks about it and shakes her head. "You know, you guys enjoy'em." she offers as she pushes off the bar and starts heading for the door. "This place really isn't my style anyway. Thought I'd give it a shot, but... the music, the whole atmosphere... it's really not for me. You folks have a great night though!" she announces aloud before she shrugs into her jacket and steps out the door. "Wonderful, wonderful," Magneto approves, lightly applauding Ahnbar. "I am glad you're seeing the good side of New York. And such lovely company." He rises slightly as Domino is introduced, inclining his head in a vaguely European bow. "A pleasure to make your acquaintence. Erik Lensherr," he says, pressing his fingers to his chest. "Please- it would be my please to have you and your companion join us, Mr. Ahnbar." With a courtly ease, he sits back down and makes a gesture for a waitress to join them. He clears his throat and turns to face Power Girl. "Excuse my impertience, but I have a certain understanding of electromagnetism," he tells her with a modest tone. "I believe you are referring to a Faraday cage? It's designed to protect valuable electronics from violent discharges of electricity. As far as I am aware, very little can completely insulate magnetic fields- at best, one can simply provide active fields with a more 'convenient' path of travel. Much the way a lightning rod works," he supplies. Regardless of the rest of the group, this guy with the eerie gaze puts out a powerful aura. There's a moment there when Domino wonders if this is all part of a cult, it's something that she's had some experience with in the past. But, she's here to learn. Maybe she'll figure it out. There's also this other lady here that's new to the group, the merc giving a quick wave to Karen while claiming a seat for herself, still by Kwabena. It almost feels like he's sponsoring her, so she'll hang around by him for now. "Erik, nice to meet you," she offers back. "Seems like you've got yourself a bit of a following around here." Denizens always did enjoy having someone to follow. "Very kind," answers Kwabena, when Magneto makes the formal invitation for them to join. As he takes his seat, he glances toward Domino hesitantly. Dressed as he is tonight, he's not as much the street thug as he is the city kid, but there was certainly something odd about the group of people who have gravitated around Magneto. While he, a mutant like the rest of them, at least had enough of an inkling to suspect that he was amongst the company of creatures like him, he could not be so certain with the woman calling herself Jessica Costello. It would be interesting to see how this all played out. As Magneto and Karen discuss electromagnetism, he leans just a bit closer to Domino so that he might murmur to her in a quieter manner. "Are you much for science, Miss Costello?" He gestures toward Karen and Erik. "I do a bit of reading on it when I can, but I've never been to school or studied it professionally. I can't help but find the conversation a bit fascinating though." There's a pause, before Karen lets out a slight, "I'm not a scientist. I just have them working for me. And this isn't a traditional faraday cage." Then there's a blink, and a smile at Domino and 'Jomas' as she tries to make them feel a bit more welcome. "But since that's all work related, I probably should shut up about it. After all, this is a place to relax." "Of course. Think nor more of it." Magneto makes a magnaminous gesture and turns to the two newcomers. "Mr. Ahnbar, I was hoping to fall in with you again. Pleasant serendipity brought you here. Or are you simply attuned to the latest trends?" He chuckles dryly to himself. "If it was not for my associate- whom you met- I think I would have no concept of 'popular' places to be. At my age, a glass of warm milk and a favored book is often quite enticing." "Miss Costello, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My father once told me a man can never have too many pretty faces in his life." He smiles warmly at Domino. "I do apologize if I was caught 'talking shop'," he adds, for Karen. "I find physics fascinating. What of yourselves?" he asks, gesturing at Karen and Domino. "Husbands? Jobs?" he queries them. "Can't say that I've studied it that much, myself," Domino responds to Kwabena's inquiry. "Interesting, sure, though it also requires a level of patience I don't always have." Her remark is paired with a small grin. However, the conversation between the other two does gather interest for an entirely different reason. She's still busy sorting out how she might ask her first question regarding electromagnetism when the conversation is steered away from such matters. Probably for the best, she shouldn't strike up random conversations about railguns with people she's never met before. Man, this Erik guy does have a way with words, doesn't he? "No apology required on my account. You seem to be the one running the show, after all," she observes with a quick look around at all of the others present. To the questions she gently shakes her head, "Never liked being tied down to another person. Work tends to dictate a lot of travel, anyway. Kind of a freelance troubleshooter." Take that one as you will. "Now that I understand completely," remarks Kwabena, while briefly engaged in conversation with Domino. "I suppose it's why I never went to school after all." Well, one of many reasons. "I tend to think of myself as well connected," is Kwabena's answer to Magneto, though it is with a certain guardedness that he speaks. It is, however, notably different than the way he seemed so defensive when Magneto had first encountered him. This version of Kwabena, you might say, is much more attuned to his surroundings, more on the level, even more intentional about his guardedness, than the Kwabena Magneto had met mere days ago. It would almost seem as if he's started to understand, if only at its fringe, purpose. "At least," he adds, "well connected in certain aspects of life." He gestures about with his half-finished glass of bourbon. He elects to keep some of his hand concealed, and will let the rest of them guess as to what aspects of life he's referring to. Freelance troubleshooter? As she hears that, Karen smiles slightly, "If you have a card, I might have some work for you down the road. We always can use someone like that where I work." Now, what does Karen mean by that? What does she think Domino really does? It's unclear, but it might be nothing at all. All though as 'Jomas' answers Magnetos question, the blonde woman can't help but blink, and frown for a second. but she doesn't ask any of the obvious questions. At least not before she responds to the question that was asked as well. "Not married. And I work for a bit of an unusual company that deals with everything from unusual problems, to very mundane ones that tend to be solved in very unique ways." "You might find physics an interesting branch of study, my friend," Magneto tells Domino. "Fascinating, even. I greatly enjoyed my time in collegiate environs. Academia is the gardener of the mind- a receptive mind will grow strong, even through learning such 'useless facts' as magnetism." He quirks a smile at Domino, looking to Kwabena. "It has long been an opinion of mine that hate and prejudice are rooted in the minds of the ignorant. Fools can do great harm- but only the wise are capable of real evil." Erik orders a small round of cocktails for the group, indicating it on his own tab. "Perhaps you didn't have the right kind of leaders," Erik proposes to Karen piously. "Many lead by virtue of strength. Others by virtue of wealth. Very few true men lead by the virtue of their own authority- a strange tautology, I will acknowledge- yet one that my years have shown to be truer and truer. The right to rule is granted to the right ruler. Those who are best in a position to make change and claim authority will be granted that which is necessary." He spreads his hands at Karren. "For men and women of action, leaders are as important as conviction. Being a follower is not a bad thing- a body cannot live without a brain, but without a form, the brain is only so much sound and fury." Bingo, possible job opportunity on the horizon! Dom smiles back at Karen when the question gets passed her way, and responds by passing a business card back to her. "Not to get back on the subject of business and all, but when opportunity comes knocking..." Back to the older gent, she actually has to agree. "No such thing as useless knowledge. There's a place for everything out there." Yet there's still something..unsettling, here. She has yet to place it, but Erik is almost -too- friendly. Soon enough he's answering the unspoken question for her, talking quite a bit about leaders and followers. And here he sits, surrounded by followers. Cult theory reaffirmed. Charismatic, very good with words, backed by a bunch of younger souls. Oh yes, treading lightly is a good idea, here. "What about you, Mister Lehnsherr. What sort of business are you involved with?" This should be interesting. Perhaps Magneto was intentionally pushing Kwabena's buttons, perhaps not. However, he fights hard to conceal the feelings that Magneto's words stir, about ignorance. He'd certainly seen his fair share of ignorance, and perhaps it led to the chip on his shoulder that he's been fighting so hard to keep concealed while visiting Otto's Shrunken Head. "Virtue of popularity," he remarks. "That is what you have when you look at America. I think a lot of people here would agree with me." He gestures toward some of the other patrons, those who have not been invited to join Magneto's party, but who have been arguing and ranting about politicians over brews for the last three hours, long before Kwabena arrived. "American leaders, they do not lead by virtue of strength or wealth, but of popularity and of deceit, and it was this country's culture that granted them that power." Kwabena settles back into his seat before allowing himself to grow too animated. To calm himself, he throws back the rest of his whiskey and politely gestures to the waitress that he'd like another. Then, he becomes particularly interested in Domino's question and Mr. Lehnsherr's answer. He only partially glances Karen's direction, before letting his differently colored eyes settle upon Magneto. To Erik, Karen simply says, "I'll simply say that our 'leader' tries her best. But with a company as eclectic as this one, that deals with things that tend to be out there, nothing will ever be easy." And yes, as that's said, the blonde looks a little... Uncomfortable. And yet, as that business card of Dominos is carefully slipped away, she can't help but grin at Erik, as if waiting to hear what he has to say to Dominos question. Or at least she does before Kwabena speaks up. Only, while she doesn't fully agree with him, she doesn't fully disagree with him. Thus she waits to see how Erik responds to him as well. "Politics," Erik quips to Domino, curling thin lips into an amused smile. "Or, rather, reform. I principally spend my time lobbying for mutant rights- and, by extension, meta-humans as well. As you say, Mr. Ahnbar-" he addresses his words to the Ghanan as well- "popularity runs the system. But, if you'll pardon the observation.... I think we misunderstand one another." "True popularity is not what we have in this country of movie stars and wealthy executives. We have populist representatives who portray themselves as leaders and voices on our behalf, but no democratic system can guarantee the rights of all. Inevitably, populists simply turn into closet aristocrats. They believe that /having/ power deserves them authority. It is perhaps a slim difference of idealism, but I maintain that authority derived from authority is far stronger than authority derived from power. An elected leader will always be stronger than a militant one. If you draw leadership from violence, your authority can only ever be based on violence. Which is, at times, regrettably necessary," he says with a disappointed sigh. "But true authority must come from philosophy and rightness of action. Authority vested in authority- acknowledging the strength of character, rather than strength of arms- begets a cycle of glorious civility." Erik gestures at the club. "Many young people here look up to me as their leader and spokesman. Not because I am strong, or because I am even powerful. They look up to me because I represent their voice- their needs. Because I saw their needs, cohesed into the need for a leader- and I rose to that role for them. Because it was just and proper than I should. Because I was popular." He smiles and spreads his hands. "Ergo. Authority begetting authority." Oh ho ho, mutant politics! Maybe Domino did get lucky here, after all! The cult idea's slightly relaxed, having connections to politics in any regard sure explains a lot of things about Erik. More convincing is required, but it's already starting to have an effect on Miss Suspicious. Now she's questioning her own judgement -that- much further. Dom leans closer over the table, pitching her voice down slightly as she addresses the man. "That kind of support can be appreciated." That's an area where she's of little use in a fight. Even those kinds of contracts make her head hurt, never know when something's going to suddenly backfire and everyone has to deal with the consequences of one extra pull of the trigger. Meh. Drug and gun runners are so much more straightforward. She leans back in her seat, finally paying her drink some closer attention. Poor thing's been feeling neglected with all of the conversation being passed around. Her new friend here, Jomas, sure has a lot on his mind as well. There's some bad blood in his history, she can feel it. Pleasant and friendly now, sure, but not the sort of guy she'd like to turn her back on. Listening to every word Magneto has to say, Kwabena nods his head a couple of times, but not as much in an agreement but in acknowledgement. When the waitress returns with their drinks, he casually accepts his glass of chilled bourbon and raises it in a subtle offer of thanks to the man who paid for it. "Mutant rights," he echoes. "Dangerous ground. We have seen this in different lights, as far back as recorded history can go. People have always turned violent when different thinking or lifestyle come into the picture, but those differences have always had one common denominator - the human genome, or Homo Sapiens as it were. Now, we have something entirely different. I hope you understand what I mean. Now, you have an entirely different species. Not just skin color, or religion, or lifestyle. You have a different species, but one that walks and talks just like the rest of them." He suddenly pauses, regretting his choice of words. Just like the rest of them. It wouldn't take an incredibly alert person to realize just how he positioned himself. Trying to hide his blunder, he can only be thankful that he'd adopted a low tone of voice, so that the blunder remains discernible only to those with whom he's seated. He lifts the drink casually to sip, but inside, he's chiding himself for being so loose lipped, and wishing, as distasteful as it always ways, that he were back in some dark alleyway somewhere, waiting for the wrong person to stumble upon the end of his unloaded pistol. At least that was something he'd grown accustomed to, rather than this charade of proper society and all of it's etiquettes. Oh boy... And now the subject starts to drift into politics. And while Karen does have her own opinions, she can't help but facepalm. Especially since it deals with mutant and superhuman politics. If there was ever a point where she wished alcohol could effect her... "Too true, too true," Erik murmurs to Kwabena. "And like any species, homo sapiens and homo superior must clamor for dominance. Homo Superior is the next evolution of the hominid race. And like the Neaderthals of the past, homo sapien will be bred into irrelevance- superior evolution supplying the same advantage to mutants that the large brain did to our ancient evolutionary forebears." He takes a long sip of his drink and looks to Karren. "You're not looking well, my dear," he asks, brow furrowed in concern. "Perhaps too much to drink?" he adds solicitously. Once more there's a sidelong glance at Jomas, Domino following his words closely. There's so much to keep track of here, but the intel is getting to be fairly awesome. The other girl gets a glance as well, including a slight grin when her palm greets her forehead. "Not a fan of politics, either?" The old guy's an elitist, too. Then again, Dom's still sitting the fence with her own opinions on that debate. So far neither side has gone for the low blow, aside from some feather-ruffling there hasn't been any significant conflict one way or the other. Time and experience will help make up her mind. Until then, she could just as easily be playing both sides of the fence. So long as she does so carefully. For the time being, she's going to be a proverbial thorn. "What happens when the next thing comes along, Erik?" First names are so much easier. "When we discover the next step beyond these homo-superiors. Change is happening quickly these days, maybe mutants are only a hiccup within evolution." This guy's got an answer to everything. How far will it reach? At Karen's reaction, Kwabena actually grins. The laughter that come isn't forced, but while he does find her reaction humorous, he laughs more out of relief that his blunder wasn't drawn upon by anyone, at least not verbally. "Hey, just because I brought it up, doesn't mean I particularly enjoy it either. Not all the time." And then, Domino, masquerading just as he with a false name and all, poses a rather unexpected question. Kwabena turns back toward Magneto, his eyebrows rising ever so slightly as he anticipates a response whose content he could only guess at. A group of people have gathered around Magneto, or Erik Lehnsherr as it were, inside a small bar in New York's Lower East side called "Otto's Shrunken Head". As the evening rolls on and other conversations are peppered around the bar, the tattooed, purple-haired DJ has begun to ramp his set from the almost ethereal music into something with a bit more jazz fusion to it. And with a glance at Kwabena, Karen shakes her head, "Maybe. But..." There's a pause. "Never mind. I won't go there right now." Then she starts to stand up. "If you'll excuse me though, I really need to go use the ladies room." Erik smiles approvingly at Domino, the face of a teacher who has heard an enlightened mind speak. "Oh, what a delightful mind you have," he congratuates her. "It's a truism of evolution that survival is determined by the fittest. Whatever comes next can only come from letting evolutionary progress track on its own. And whatever comes after us- Homo Icthyoid, if you believe those fools from Atlantis." He spreads his hands. "A simpler example would be seen in political structures. If civil war envelopes a nation, it will split into two. And one of the two will survive the split and, eventually, re-absorb the other. One country is remembered forever. The other, consigned to the oblivion of history textbooks. It does not matter which country has the more power or larger army- it is the people who have the will to fight for their culture that will survive." Cain Marko stoops in through the doorway, looking forward to a good Mai Tai. He pauses for a moment to look around the place, and takes note of the group clustered around Erik. He wanders up to the bar and places his order. So what Domino gathers from hearing all of this is that this Erik fellow seems to believe that homo-superior is always going to be on top, because if something else came along it wouldn't have the same will to fight as the mutants do. At least, that sure seems to her like what she's hearing. Crazy idealist? Eh. In another seventy years, is she going to care which side wins? Not really. She's got the here and now to worry about. But, now she has an even better understanding of Erik's mind. He could be good for some work, perhaps. Strong beliefs, conviction. She would just have to do some extra research on any potential jobs before accepting. Like she hasn't played with fire, before... Tagged, filed, remembered. "It's no wonder that you've got yourself a following," Dom concludes with a return of that friendly black-on-white smile. "Sounds like you've got your hands quite full with everything that you're juggling." Hmm, it was easy to lose track of the comings and goings by the entrance to this joint. Not as easily done when someone standing over eight feet steps inside. The newest arrival earns himself an up and down glance from the edge of her vision. Is this guy going to be trouble..? A couple of ten millimeters might not be enough! Kwabena bids a silent farewell to Karen as she departs, then diverts his attention again to the conversation as it has developed between Magneto and Domino. "You see, though," he interjects, "survival of the fittest was always such an animalistic concept before man came along. Now, we have thinking species. Cognitive thought. Despite any differences mutants may have with their predecessors, or vice versa..." He lifts a hand to point a finger up into the air. "There is one difference in this debate and that is cognitive thought. We can reason with each other, rather than just... watching one fade into uselessness." He leans back into his seat, feeling a bit more relaxed as the whiskey kicks in. "Not that I give two damns about most people, keep in mind. But you have to ask, how different is this, really, from the issues we have already faced?" He stresses the last phrase, given it was a subject he'd already breached earlier. "Could you say that my people were weaker for being enslaved by the white race in the first place, or were we the more powerful because we fought back and achieved equality in this and other cultures?" "We are ranging somewhat far afield from our original topic," Erik points out with a smile. "There is a difference between a technologically inferior culture being adapted into another one, and a genetically inferior species rising over another. In the first instance, the viccisitudes of fate and circumstance left certain cultural elements more technologically and socially advanced in the methods for making warfare. This led to suppression. Had African tribes established a stronger, centralized government, they may very well have held off British conquerors. Look to the battle of Rourke's Drift- a few hundred British soldiers held off a massive Zulu army with a handful of weapons and scarce equipment. So yes," he says, simply. "Had Darius or Xerxes not been stopped by Alexander or Macedonia, it's entirely possible that we would be speaking a Persian derivative of language, rather than a Greco-Latin descendent. It does come down to survival of the fittest." Cain Marko tosses the little umbrella aside and takes a long drink of his Mai tai and glances over at Domino. Something familiar about that one...where did he hear about a lady with that look? He scratches his neck thoughtfully as he narrows it down. Finally a smile and nod of recognition in her direction. The talk of Zulu battles draws his interest to Erik and he listens thoughtfully. Granted, there aren't many goth albinos with large black spots over their left eye. When the newcomer eyes Dom back there's a moment where the two stare at each other in silence. There's something about the smile and nod that allows her to relax, it didn't look like a faux expression from where she's sitting. A smirk is passed back at the guy. Unfortunately, trying to keep track of people whose major feature is being tall is a little harder to do. All the same, if that guy's on her side then she's not about to complain! Looking back to the two still talking about history and gods know what else, she empties the remainder of her glass then quietly steps away, at least for a moment, to refresh her drink. And to have some words with Biggie McBiggerson over yonder. "Something I can help ya with, Bruiser?" For a moment, Kwabena isn't sure whether to be insulted or not. In essence, his culture and heritage have just been insulted... however, as a mutant, his existence as homo superior has just been heralded. "And so small decisions can affect a great many things," he murmurs, before bidding silent farewell to Domino as she steps away. "Speaking of our original topic," he shifts. "Tell me, where do you realistically see this all going, Erik?" he asks. "Your lobbying efforts, mutant rights, and so forth. In which direction does the pendulum swing?" "It will be a long uphill battle," Erik admits, watching Domino depart to intercept the monstrously sized man. "There are those who are dug in- so hoplessly entrenched- that we are at the point of war with them. Some can be convinced... and those are the weak ones who simply wish to be integrated into the new order. The real concern is those who are not only convinced of the dominance of mankind... but they actively try to undo the natural path of evolution. Many mutants have died as a result of this evolutionary process at work." Magneto's conversation with Kwabena doesn't carry beyond their booth, the older man's wide eyes and intent features focused on Kwabena, explaining something at some serious length. Cain Marko finishes the rest of his drink and nods to the bartender. "Little less water in the next one." His eyes settle back on Domino. "Probably, but I don't think I'm your type." He gives the bartender a brief look as another drink (this time without the umbrella) is set down in front of him. He takes a sip and nods approvingly. "There we go." His attention swings back to Dom as he smiles down at her. "You working or just enjoying a night out?" Hmm. Noted. Hey, opportunities can take many forms. The empty glass gets placed atop the bar before Domino leans sidelong against it, one elbow propped upon the surface with the outer leg crossing over its neighbor. "A little of each, despite my better judgement. Hard to say no where the drinks are concerned." A slight pause follows, glancing back to the two note-worthy men at the table that are still heavily engaged in discussion. Having a slight breather is a blessing in disguise, particularly with some of the recent propositions she's heard for work as of late. With her drink refreshed she looks back to Cain. At this distance there's a whole lot of upward tilting of her head, it's unavoidable. "I take it you know me from somewhere, though it doesn't appear to be mutual." Kwabena's eyes narrow. While Magneto doesn't provide any details, the suggestion is disgusting to him nonetheless. "You know," he offers after some silence, "I have tried very hard to keep the truth about myself silent, ever since I left home. Unfortunately..." He eyes his unfinished glass of whiskey, then looks back up at Magneto. "Sometimes there's nothing I can do about it. It just happens." With his back turned to the rest of the bar, Kwabena has a certain bit of stealth in what he does next. After quickly finishing his glass of whiskey, he sets his hand palm down onto the table top, then retrieves a knife from nearby. With one swift motion, he stabs the knife into his hand, while staring at the man across from him garishly. Only instead of blood coming from a puncture, the skin around the knife seems to melt into black gas upon contact, and merely swirls around the utensil until he pulls it back out with a grunt, for the knife had become embedded into the table itself. As the knife comes away, the black gas swirls back into bone, flesh, and skin once more, and the knife is left spotless. Kwabena cocks his head slightly. "Now when it comes to purpose, Mister Lehnsherr, perhaps you can help me to understand /that/." A small smile and a shrug of his heavy shoulders. "If you're who you look like, yeah. Hear you're quite the bad ass." His eyes quickly flicker over to Kwabena's back, curious as to what he's up to. "Name's Cain...done a fair bit of hired work myself." Both concealed by the shadows of the booth, Erik and Kwabena are having a muted, but heated, discussion. Erik lifts his chin at the blade, power whipping the knife away from Kwabena's hand as effortlessly as if he were disarming a child. And Erik's hands never move. The knife hovers an inch off the table, rotating slowly. "You have been endowed with a great and terrible gift," Magneto murmurs to the man, the lights playing off the slowly rotating blade. "You have two choices. Hide your gifts, squelch them, and never live up to the potential they offer you. Die alone at the hands of jealous humans, abandoned by any human you let into your heart when they realize that they can never match your potential, denying who and what you are." The knife begins to curl and bend into an elaborate pretzel, the very shape of the blade changing with the forces at work upon it. "Or embrace your gifts. Master them. Join your brothers and sisters in becoming great- having your name written in the annals of history as forefather of a New Mutant Order." -Thunk.- Domino knows that sound. Her attention snaps back to the table where Erik and Jomas sit, a bit too quickly to be considered subtle. In that instant her alarm is up, the back of her shoulders tensed. She can only see so much of what's happening, but she can tell who just drove a blade into that table. A whispered "Damn" is quick to follow. Way to put some serious tension into the air around here, dude! Either they're no longer talking politics or someone's just had his fill of the discussion. Shifting the new drink into her left hand, she glances back at Cain with eyes narrowed as they seek his face for some manner of reaction. Is he following this..? Is he with her on this? There's a subtle shift of her head toward the others, then, perhaps against any sense of self-preservation or better judgement, she stalks back over to their table. Why? Hell if she knows! Seems like the thing she should be doing, somehow. Cain Marko flickers from Kwabena's back to meet Domino's gaze. "Back to work?" He picks up his glass, sipping as he follows her towards the table, looking more curious than alarmed. Withdrawing the unmarked hand that should have been injured, Kwabena sits a bit more upright when Magneto displays a bit more of his power. The young man honestly does not know how to respond. For five years he has lived a charade, going from city to city, preying on the innocent simply to feed himself and a revolving door narcotic addiction. He'd only relied on his mutant ability when necessary; running from the police is remarkably easy when their bullets pass right through you. The thought of mastering his ability is almost too much to consider. There are two distinct emotions that flash through his eyes when Magneto presents him the opportunity. First comes malice. Revenge. The idea of getting back at those who have wronged him tastes almost so good that Kwabena almost misses catching just what was happening to him. Drawing back, he reconsiders. The mere idea of such power had given him such an intense flash of rage that it began to frighten him. The second emotion that flashes through his eyes is hesitation, for he fears what might happen to him if he goes that route. However, before he can offer a definitive response, he catches Domino approaching from the corner of his eye. Immediately drawing the facade back about him, he sits back into his seat and glances her way with a cordial smile. "Jessica." Only then does he notice the giant who follows her, and with the slightest perking of an eyebrow, he nods his head in greeting to Cain. Mangneto sets aside the silver coaster he'd produced out of nowhere as the table is re-joined. "Don't let your power intimidate you, my young friend," Erik soothes Kwabena. "It's a great gift. One should never be afraid of gifts. Like an athlete who can run, or a performer who can sing arias. Why be afraid of what makes you great?" He spreads his fingers wide, eyebrows raised and asking the question of Kwabena. So it's probably rude to bring unexpected company over to a table where she had been a guest only a short time ago. Where things seem to be headed, Dom wants to feel like she's not doing this one alone. Interesting how easily she can go from being a loner to wanting backup when the other team is likely not human. "You boys enjoying your political debate?" she asks the pair, suspicious now with a slight narrowing of the eyes. She may not see a blade, but she knows the sound one makes. "I'm hoping that things haven't shifted over to the visual aids, already." Man, even what Erik is saying now about gifts and not being afraid of them. She's heard that kind of speech before! So, great. They're the same species. Are they on the same side? Cain Marko has no idea what kind of trouble Domino is mixed up with...probably not something she actually needs help with, but you never know. And there is no better way to make friends. He gives both gentlemen a polite nod of his head but keeps quiet for now. "Hardly," comes Kwabena's heavily accented English. "And I believe the political debate is over," he adds. Looking back to Magneto, he shakes his head. "It's not the gift that concerns me, Mister Lehnsherr," he answers, and takes a moment before he's quite ready to explain his answer. "It's the gifted." Out from the pocket of his jacket comes a small pack of Lucky Strike brand cigarettes. He taps one out into the palm of his hand, then begins to stand. "Excuse me," he requests, then turns to leave the table. To Domino's suspicious eyes, he merely offers a nod of support and encouragement, briefly placing a hand upon her shoulder as if to reassure her that, no matter what she heard, there is nothing to be concerned with here. "Of course, of course. Safe travels, my young friend. Be careful on the streets. Be wary." Magneto raises a hand in farewell to the young man as he takes his leave of the table. Lensherr settles his hands back on the table, long fingers wrapping around the half-full scotch and melting ice cubes. Alright, she isn't expecting to have a hand upon her shoulder. It works, though. Some of the tension bleeds out of Dom's shoulders, likewise watching the man with the mismatched eyes walking away. Just like that, she's not sure what her next move is. Except to take a long drink from her glass. Following that, there's a long and thorough look directly at Erik. She's still trying to determine how she feels about the guy, though 'suspicious' easily tops the list. "Thanks for the conversation, Erik. You might enjoy the company of my friend, here," she suggests while looking back to Cain. Voice pitching lower between the big guy and herself, she offers "Sorry, kiddo. We'll have to catch up later." Thus concludes the worst introduction she's done all year. Something's suggesting that now is the time to cash out and get herself back on the move. Cain Marko laughs softly. "Sure thing, kid." He gives Erik a wary look, odd coming from one so physically intimidating. "Don't have much time for politics, but I'd be happy to meet up over a scotch sometime. Name's Cain." "You will see me again, soon," answers Kwabena to Erik, before his feet carry him away from the table. He slips through the crowded bar and out onto the street, where he wastes no time in cupping his hand around the cigarette to protect it from the Manhattan breeze upon lighting it. He waits there for a sum of a full minute, before turning and disappearing into the shadows. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs